


9 Times Grantaire Asked Enjolras Out (+1 He Said Yes)

by captainskellington



Series: Bad Pickup Lines [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainskellington/pseuds/captainskellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire decides this mutual flirting thing has gone on long enough and asks Enjolras out.<br/>Using bad pickup lines.<br/>Repeatedly.</p><p>Alternatively titled, "Try Again"</p>
            </blockquote>





	9 Times Grantaire Asked Enjolras Out (+1 He Said Yes)

 

It’s been going on for months now, this flirtatious, downright frustrating thing; lingering gazes and suggestive glances, unnecessary touches and messages drenched in euphemisms. Enjolras doesn’t send kisses to anyone else - he’s checked - and Grantaire has had to spend way more time in the shower than he would ever admit to anyone. But he doesn’t need to admit it, because Enjolras _knows_. He _knows_ that _he_ knows because he’s always wearing that damn smirk and grinning to himself when Grantaire enters the room, or biting his lip when he knows only Grantaire’s looking. On one particularly memorable day of pure frustration he was actually _lurking outside the bathroom_ waiting for him, leaning on the doorframe when Grantaire emerged to say “Enjoy yourself?” with a fucking _wink_ before he brushed past him and slipped into the room himself.

Their friends have a betting pool going, there’s an expectant thrill in the air whenever they’re in the same room together. And Grantaire never would have guessed until all this started, but Enjolras is a tease. He isn’t going to be the one to make the first real move, but he’s _totally_ content to _drive Grantaire completely insane_ until he does.

It’s early February when Grantaire decides this has been going on long enough and tries to ask him out, the only way he knows how.

 

**1.**

Grantaire hops over the back of the couch to land beside Enjolras, who doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even ask him how he got into the apartment in the first place - but then, neither he nor Courfeyrac ever actually locks the door.

Grantaire stares at the side of his head intently until Enjolras sighs, pauses whatever it is he’s watching, and turns to look at him.

“Can I help you?” he asks, mocking irritation evident in his voice, but all Grantaire sees is the twinkling expectation in his eyes, the welcoming crook of his smile, teasing arch of his eyebrow and easy slouch of his body.

Grantaire clears his throat and tries to keep his expression earnest as he recites;

“Roses are red, violets are blue; if you go out with me, I’ll go down on you.”

Enjolras laughs, throwing his head back. “Really? Is this how we’re doing this? Bad pickup lines?”

Grantaire simply grins and nods. “Yeah, it really is. So?”

Enjolras tries not to smile, lips twisting as he raises his index finger to tap at his cheek as he considers how to answer, knowing fine well that Grantaire’s eyes are tracking every movement.

“Violets are violet, it’s in the name,” is what he concludes after a moment.

“Roses are red, violets _aren't_ blue-” Grantaire immediately tries to amend, only to be cut off to great effect with Enjolras’ finger pressed against his lips.

“Recycle your own pick up lines, and I’ll NEVER go out with you,” Enjolras leans towards him and almost _purrs_ , and God, Grantaire hates him sometimes.

“Damn it,” he whispers, lips brushing Enjolras’ finger, and he can’t help but notice Enjolras’ eyes widen a fraction after the movement.

There’s a few moments of silence where neither of them move, mere inches between their faces, and Enjolras seriously considers backtracking and taking Grantaire up on his offer. But then… He grins. This way seems a lot more fun.

He presses his own lips against that same finger to murmur “Better luck next time,” and then he’s gone.

Grantaire swallows, and says to the empty room, “Well, fuck.”

 

**2.**

The next day, Grantaire tries again.

Enjolras finds himself in his new favourite café, about to get his order taken by a bubbly waitress by the name of Anna when he hears a knock at the window beside him. Puzzled, he turns around, and truth be told he really doesn’t know what else he could have been expecting.

Grantaire stands outside, wearing what looks like one of Enjolras’ sweaters under his own dark blue coat, grey beanie tugged down over unruly curls to combat the early morning February chill. He’s grinning mischieviously as he holds up an incredibly crumpled piece of paper with “ _ **Did it hurt when U fell from heaven?**_ ” written on it sloppily in black felt tip.

Enjolras groans and rolls his eyes, but turns to the waitress to ask if he can borrow a pen. Biting back a grin, he scribbles on a napkin “ _No, but it hurt to read that._ ” and holds it up for Grantaire to read.

Grantaire laughs and Enjolras wishes he could hear it through the glass. R raises his eyebrows hopefully and mouths “ _Try again?_ ”

Enjolras nods in reply, releasing the fond grin he’d been trying - and failing miserably - to hide.

The waitress is smiling when he returns the pen. “Boyfriend?” she asks, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Enjolras answers distractedly, still smiling fondly as he watches his friend disappear amongst the crowds throngs of people crowding the sidewalk outside. “No… Not yet.”

 

 **3.**  

If Grantaire is surprised to see Enjolras sitting in his, Joly and Bossuet’s kitchen when he returns from class, he hides it well, launching straight into a line.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put-”

“‘ _U_ ’ and ‘ _I_ ’ together?” Enjolras glances up from his newspaper - it’s got to be Enjolras’ newspaper, it definitely isn’t his-, amused.

Grantaire leans his elbows on the back of his chair, Enjolras twisting around to look up at him. “Actually, I was going to say ‘ _E_ ’ and ‘ _R_ ’, but… Was that a yes?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, daintily uncrosses his legs, and stands up for a full body stretch just for the noise he knows it’ll tear out of Grantaire.

“Oh R,” he grins easily, leaning forward, hands resting either side of Grantaire on the back of the chair. “I don’t have to rearrange the alphabet to put ‘ _N_ ’ and ‘ _O_ ’ together.”   
The quick kiss he presses to Grantaire’s cheek earns him a startled noise. “Try again,” he says playfully, and begins to stalk away.

“Hey, wait,” Grantaire turns to call after him, still a little dazed. “Why are you in my apartment?”

In one flowing movement Enjolras is leaning back in through the door and dragging a deliberately slow gaze over Grantaire’s body before answering “The view.”

He winks, then is gone.

 

**4.**

Enjolras is curled up on his couch, back to back with Courfeyrac, the two of them watching reruns of _Friends_ when Grantaire next makes a move. Courfeyrac is trying to assign their own friends to each role when Enjolras’ phone buzzes in his pocket.

He cuts short his uncannily apt comparison of Joly to Ross to roll his eyes and ask, “How long are you gonna let him suffer before you say yes?”

Enjolras doesn’t answer, instead smiling at the message that appears on his screen.

    **Im not dead. Lets have dinner. - R**

He laughs and shows it to Courf before sending a reply.

    **She’s a lesbian and he’s a sociopath. That show is terrible. Try again x**

Courfeyrac rolls his eyes again and mutters “It’s not that bad.”

“Courf, a splinter is ‘ _not that bad_ ’. That show is a trainwreck.”

Courfeyrac turns to glare at him for a moment before retorting; “You’re Gunther. And Grantaire is Rachel.”

Enjolras blushes, but accepts the comparison.

 

**5.**

Somebody - it might have been Jehan - at some point decided that a movie night should take place at least once a week within the group, at the place of whoever felt like hosting at the time. More often than not it’s at Enjolras and Courfeyrac’s apartment; they have the widest TV, the largest amount of floorspace, and the most inexplicably comfortable carpet out of everybody. Neither of them mind, considering everybody more or less lives over there anyway.

Somebody decided a _Harry Potter_ movie marathon was necessary this particular night - Enjolras isn’t even sure that he owns them, it may have been Combeferre’s contribution.

They’re midway through _Philosopher’s Stone_ , and nobody notices Grantaire sneak in late from work until he leans over the back of the couch next to Enjolras to whisper “Fancy a basilisk in your chamber of secrets?”

Jehan, settled between Enjolras and Courfeyrac on the couch, shrieks and spills popcorn everywhere. Grantaire doesn’t even have to be told the customary “ _Try again_ ” and he’s laughing as he detaches himself from Enjolras and dances away to join Combeferre on the floor, receiving a high five for his efforts as he flops down. He blows a kiss to Enjolras when he realises he’s being watched, and Enjolras blows one back before shaking his head and returning to the movie.

 

**6.**

“How come he gets kisses? I don’t get kisses.”

Enjolras snatches his phone out of Courfeyrac’s hand and drops it in his pocket.

“Because you don’t try to chat me up every time you see me,” is his absentminded reply. He’s going to be late for class. No time to stop and eat breakfast, he throws an apple in his bag and picks up a banana. He stares at it a moment, then struck by sudden inspiration he grabs a felt tip pen from the counter and scribbles on the skin, grinning like a fool.

“Just in case. Later!” He’s out the door before Courfeyrac can question it.

 

Two days later, Grantaire wanders into their living room sporting a cocky grin and says “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” to which Enjolras replies by wordlessly reaching his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out the banana and placing it in Grantaire’s hand with a quick kiss to his cheek as he continues walking straight out the door.

 

He can hear Courfeyrac laughing hysterically as he shuts himself in his room, and he grins to himself imagining Grantaire’s face as he spots the _**TRY AGAIN! x**_ scrawled on the peel.

 

**7.**

He’s in the middle of class when he receives a message notification from Grantaire. It’s an MMS, so he takes a drink while he waits for it to download, phone held discreetly under the desk.

Enjolras regrets it immediately, the message leaving him choking and nearly spraying the entire row in front of him with water when the image finally loads; Grantaire has taken a picture of himself holding a book titled _“Let’s Get Naked”_ , sent accompanied by the caption **how about it, apollo?**.      

Enjolras tries not to grin as he shoots apologetic looks at those who turned to look at him. The picture is, quite frankly, adorable, and his thumb only hovers over it for a second before pressing to save the image permanently. He types his reply under the desk.

   **Maybe one day. Try again x**

Quickly followed by another.

   **BUT NOT WHILE I’M IN CLASS. x x**

 

**8.**

Later that day, Enjolras is walking home from his lecture when he spots a familiar mass of curls on the opposite side of the street. He hasn’t gone unnoticed himself.

“Hey, fearless leader!” Grantaire calls across the road, raising his arm to get his attention. “If I said you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?”

Enjolras just shakes his head, laughing, and keeps walking. “Try again!”

“I’ll win you over one day, Apollo!” Grantaire’s grinning playfully as he continues on his way to wherever it is he has to be.

Enjolras grins to himself, knowing perfectly well that that day came a long time ago.

 

**9.**

The next time Grantaire tries, it’s just after an _Amis_ meeting. Himself, Combeferre and Joly are occupying the battered couch in the corner of the room, various others scattered on chairs or around tables elsewhere in the room.

Feeling somewhat merry, Enjolras has indulged himself with a bottle of wine and spent most of the night watching Grantaire’s every move, and man, if he isn’t starting to consider relenting, bad pickup lines be damned. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s waiting for from him, but what he _is_ sure of is that if he takes one more long drag of his drink and bares that _obscene_ throat of his one more time, he’s going to give him something better to do with that mouth.

This train of thought isn’t so much derailed as it is diverted when Grantaire leans forward and taps on Enjolras’ knee to get his attention, as if he hadn’t already had it the entire night. He turns to him and raises an expectant eyebrow, ignoring the fact that Grantaire’s hand still lingers on his knee.

R takes a deep breath and says, “ _Ifyouwanttogooutwithmesaywhat._ ”

There’s a long silence for a moment wherein nobody can figure out what he just said, but it clicks into place for Enjolras a moment before a very drunk Bahorel blinks and confusedly replies, “What?”

To which Grantaire lets out an almighty groan and flings himself back on the couch, slapping his hands over his face. “NOT YOU, YOU ALMIGHTY OAF.”

Combeferre snorts into his drink, and Joly pats Grantaire’s shoulder in a consolatory manner as Enjolras and the others erupt into sidesplitting laughter. R cracks open his fingers to shoot him a look, and he composes himself just long enough to shake his head and breathlessly mutter “Try again,” before he’s gone again, bent in two with laughter.

Bahorel is still trying to work out what’s so funny.

 

**+1.**

Grantaire doesn’t make any direct attempt to contact Enjolras for a few days. Sure, they’re around each other, but Grantaire stays uncharacteristically quiet throughout, and Enjolras can’t help but think he’s plotting something.

It gets to the stage where Enjolras is curious enough - and, let’s be honest, sorely misses his company enough - to try seeking him out. It’s a Friday morning when he makes his way over to the flat Grantaire shares with Joly and Bossuet. He’s fairly certain that they all have lectures at this time, but then, so does he, technically. He makes a pleased noise when he tries the door to their flat and finds it unlocked and is met by a mouthwatering aroma. Puzzled, he makes his way to the kitchen and is met with the sight of Grantaire baking, of all things.

He has earphones in and his back’s turned to check on a tray of something in the oven when Enjolras enters and hoists himself up on the counter beside a large mixing bowl, which seems to contain leftover cookie batter.

Grantaire turns and startles a little when he realises he has company, sheepishly swiping out a hand to remove his earphones and successfully getting flour smudged across his cheeks in doing so.

“Hey,” he says, and is he blushing? Enjolras makes a mental note to get him an apron at some point, because A) _adorable_ and B) there is literally flour _everywhere._ Grantaire wears way too much black for baking unprotected.

“Hi. No pickup lines for me today?” Enjolras leans back on the countertop on one hand and swings his legs lazily over the edge. He’s aware of Grantaire’s eyes roaming and the slight cough he gives to clear his throat. _So easy._

Grantaire shakes himself, literally, and tries to shrug nonchalantly. Enjolras freezes for a moment, suddenly worried that he’s lost interest. But then he dips his finger in the cookie mixture and licks it off curiously and realises he needn’t have worried; Grantaire actually makes a satisfyingly strangled noise that gets drowned out by the timer on his phone blaring from his pocket. He whirls around and bends over, glove in hand, to retrieve the tray of cookies from the oven. Enjolras may take the opportunity to ogle his ass because, well, skinny jeans, can you really blame him.

Grantaire knocks the oven door shut with his hip and starts transferring the cookies onto a cooling rack, still blushing and shooting a distracted look back over his shoulder at Enjolras now more or less sprawled across the counter. He shakes himself again and goes to rummage in a cupboard, pulling out a tube and returning to the cookies.

Enjolras tilts his head, frowning. “Icing on cookies, R?”

Grantaire just waves his hand at him in the universal sign for ' _gimme a sec_ ', so Enjolras helps himself to more cookie batter. When Grantaire eventually turns back to him his entire finger is in his mouth, and Enjolras watches him stare as he pulls it out with an obscene pop and smiles sweetly at him, feigning innocence. Grantaire’s mouth hangs open for a moment before he remembers himself and swears under his breath, shaking his head a third time in what would appear to be an attempt to return blood flow to it.

Then, he’s placing a plate piled with cookies beside him and standing just out of reach, staring at him expectantly, nodding toward the plate. He crosses his arms to wait.

Enjolras then looks down at the top cookie, and the icing suddenly makes sense.

Because the cookie has scrawled across it, in pink, “ **Dough you wanna go out with me?** ”, and Enjolras is laughing, and Grantaire is grinning, and Enjolras is fairly certain he’s just fallen in love and he reaches out to grab him by the front of his shirt and tug him into a kiss. It doesn’t really work because they’re both laughing but Grantaire tastes sweet like cookies and his smile feels right against Enjolras’. He settles into the space between Enjolras’ legs, still atop the counter, and wraps his arms around his middle as he grins up at him.

“Was that a yes, finally?”

Enjolras pretends to think about it, but when Grantaire says “I swear to God if you say ‘ _Try again_ ’ I am leaving right now and never making you cookies again” he just pulls him impossibly closer and kisses him again.

“That’s a yes, you doughball,” he flicks Grantaire’s nose when he wrinkles it and groans. “Hey, you’re not the only one who can make puns.”

“Yeah, but it’s cute when I do it.”

“It really is,” Enjolras muses, wiping off some of the flour from Grantaire’s cheek with his thumb then licking it off. He goes to add, “Adorable,” but he’s cut off by Grantaire whimpering and dragging him into another kiss.

When they eventually break apart, breathing raggedly, Grantaire says in a wrecked voice, “Please, _please_ stop licking things so we can actually eat some of these while they’re still warm.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Enjolras smirks, his forehead pressed tight against Grantaire’s.

“Fucking _tease_ ,” Grantaire breathes. Enjolras laughs and allows himself to be tugged off the counter along with the plate of cookies.

They end up tumbling onto the couch together, Enjolras leaning against one of the arms with Grantaire nestled between his legs with his back to his chest, one arm around Grantaire’s middle as the other holds cookies. He eats his special cookie with an appreciative groan and Grantaire laughs around his own.

“What do the other ones say?” he wonders, snaking an arm around to snatch another cookie from the plate.

“You know those dumb loveheart candies? Yeah, quotes from them,” Grantaire grins unabashedly as Enjolras inspects a **BE MINE** one. “Did you realise it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“ _Is_ it?” asks Enjolras, genuinely caught off guard. “I wasn’t even paying attention, I just cut school because there’s some idiot who kept trying to ask me out that I was missing a lot.”

“ _You_ didn’t know the _date_?”

“Yeah, I wonder who could have _distracted me_ ,” Enjolras deadpans, running his thumb down the side of Grantaire’s ribcage.

Grantaire’s shiver is quickly followed by the plate of cookies being placed hastily on the floor, and him turning around to be lying chest to chest with Enjolras.

“Joly won’t be back for another three hours,” he breathes, face centimetres from Enjolras’. Enjolras groans with the implication and sinks enthusiastically into the offered kiss.

“Hey Grantaire,” he whispers from below R. “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Oh my god, shut _up,_ ” Grantaire mutters, and quickly stifles Enjolras’ laugh with another kiss.

 

 **\--♥ HAPPY** [early] **VALENTINE'S DAY! ♥--**

**Author's Note:**

> Revised notes:
> 
> 1\. It is currently 4.30am, and all mistakes are my own.  
> 2\. Partially inspired by those godawful Valentine's Day cards on Tumblr  
> 3\. Any views expressed towards BBC Sherlock are Enjolras' and Enjolras' alone omg  
> 4\. Pickup line #7 was totally ripped off from [here](http://puyols-hairdresser.tumblr.com/post/72473017192/les-amis-snapchats-grantaire-annoying-enjolras) and as such I take zero credit for it.  
> 6\. I CAME UP WITH THE DOUGH PUNS MYSELF AND I HATE AND LOVE MYSELF FOR IT IN EQUAL MEASURES  
> IF YOU SPOT ANYTHING OFF TELL ME PLEASE I WILL CORRECT IMMEDIATELY  
> Come say hi on Tumblr, I go by [cityelf](http://cityelf.tumblr.com)!!
> 
> Edit: This now has a prequel of sorts by the name of [Caught Off Guard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1695680).  
> FINAL EDIT: I've added this to a [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/144588) that I'll try to add more to, and given it a sequel called [My Turn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2200137).


End file.
